Fixed Point
by Write0rDie
Summary: Clara has had a rough day after the events in Deep Time (novel). Twelve assists. After action patch up with some banter. hurt!clara [Spoilers for Deep Time.] Submission for the tumblr doctorwhohurtcomfort blog.


Clara felt something poke her in the leg.

She woke with a fright and sucked in a shuddering breath. The Doctor loomed over her for a moment, and seeing that she was definitely awake, he turned and stalked back to the console.

"Home time, Clara. Off you go." He clapped his hands together to hurry her up. "You have a whole room for sleeping in."

But she would not be hurried or dismissed. Not after today. Not after.. Her eyes began to well up again at the sadness of it all. She quickly blinked the tears away, sat up from her slumped position and looked around.

"Home," she said with a weak smile. "Now there's a thought. Nice glass of prosecco and then bed, I think." Clara groaned as she pushed herself out of the the seat.

The Doctor opened his mouth to comment, but she silenced him with a thunderous glare. "Don't you dare say a word."

He threw his hands up in surrender. "I didn't say anything!"

Clara sagged over the console. Her muscles ached fiercely and the pounding headache was back in full force. She straightened, ignoring the stars that danced at the corners of her vision.

"Doctor, do you think Tibby and Raymond will stay together?" she asked thoughtfully. Clara hoped that at least something good might come out of all the loss.

The Doctor stared away for a moment. It was as if he were looking at their timeline laid out before him.

Clara smiled knowingly. "'Cause you know, relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last."

His attention snapped back to the present. "Annie Porter. Speed. Nineteen ninety-four." He flashed her a quick grin.

"Very good, Doctor," she said in surprise. "I'm impressed."

"Yes, well, there's a lot to be impressed about. My DVD collection for starters."

"Back to Ray and Tibby," she said dryly.

"They'll be fine." He waved at her dismissively. "Better than fine in fact. Raymond loses all his money," he said happily.

Clara's face fell.

The Doctor retreated to the far side of the console to fiddle with some switches. Clara followed.

"That, uh, doesn't sound very fine to me, Doctor."

He pulled a monitor over and frowned into it. "Raymond makes all his money back again, and more." He tapped a few buttons and continued. "Their daughter goes on to invent a new form of interstellar drive that revolutionises space travel for the next two hundred years."

"Daughter?"

"Yes, Clara. Female offspring. Come on. You're supposed to know these things. You're a teacher," he said gesturing at her.

Clara sighed heavily, and then wished she hadn't. The stars were back again. She gripped the console so hard she thought the cloister bell would sound.

"That seems.. important," she said, trying to keep her tone casual. "So, fixed point then?"

"The interstellar drive, yes." The Doctor tore his gaze from the monitor and looked down at Clara with a deep frown. "What's also a fixed point is you collapsing on my deck in about fifteen seconds."

"I'm fine, Doctor. Really."

"Is that so?" he said, eyebrows raised.

Clara's eyes widened as she realised he was right. Her vision pulsed and exploded into a white out and her grip on the console began to slacken. He was saying something to her, something important, but she couldn't hear over the ringing in her ears. She felt herself being lowered to the floor and then nothing.

Unconscious, again.

* * *

Clara dozed lightly. She was warm and comfortable, tucked in under a heavy duvet. Her duvet. Funny. She couldn't remember getting into bed, or taking her shoes off for that matter.

"You have some very interesting literature on your kindle, Clara."

It was The Doctor, sitting up against the headboard on the other side of the bed. He hadn't bothered to take his boots off but his jacket was folded neatly over a chair in the corner.

Clara sat up quickly. "Give me that!" she said, reaching over to snatch the device. She quickly pushed it under her pillow, out of reach.

He folded his hands in his lap. "So, Clara," he said clinically. "Feeling any better?"

She flopped back onto the bed. "Not really. Am I supposed to feel this awful? Because I feel _really_ awful."

"Not surprising. You have a seat belt shaped bruise down your thorax," he said, pointing his finger towards her middle. "Minor cellular damage. Nothing to worry about. But quite painful I'm sure."

She didn't answer, but let her head sink into the pillow. She was ready to doze off again.

"The dehydration and low blood sugar however is another matter." He swung his long legs off the bed and made his way around to Clara's side. "You had three cups of coffee at school today. Skipped lunch. Probably busy tutoring some rubbish pupil."

She felt the bed dip as The Doctor sat down and continued. "Then you had a glass of champagne aboard the Alexandria, a very long time ago."

"Seriously, you can tell that?" she said sleepily, her eyes still closed.

"I scanned you before, remember?"

"And you said I was fine."

"I may have omitted some details," he said cautiously.

She opened her eyes and gave him a dark look.

"What would you have had me do, Clara?" he said in exasperation. "I couldn't just pop to the nearest vending machine and and get you a drink. We had to keep everyone moving. Now, sit up."

Clara pulled herself up painfully. The Doctor piled pillows up behind her and then handed her a steaming mug.

She sniffed it suspiciously. "What's this?"

"Hot chocolate," he said proudly.

"Really?" She sniffed it again. "Would that be a real hot chocolate or one you've fashioned from your own-"

"Clara. It came from your kitchen. Made it myself."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


End file.
